The Loves of Amandus and Sophronia Historically Narrated. A Piece of rare Contexture, Inriched with many pleasing Odes and Sonnets, occasioned by the Jocular, or Tragicall occurrences, hapning in the progresse of the Historie. Disposed into three Books, or Tracts by Samuel Sheppard |
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[While I the glad and smiling ground doe strew] |
 | The Loves of Amandus and Sophronia |  |
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[While I the glad and smiling ground doe strew]
While I the glad and smiling ground doe strew,In these most pleasant Groves, whose verdant hew,
Allure great Pan and Pales here to sport,
Forgetting quite the pleasures of the Court;
Resting securely, void of ghastly feare,
How well were I, were my Amandus here
No Souldier here doth wipe his Sanguine Blade,
Made drink with blood, no Lording doth invade
The poore mans House, or Land; no foule Sedition,
No Edict, Remora, or Inhibition,
Vexeth my quiet peace, my Flocks I keepe
Secure, and dreadlesse of all danger sleepe.
The fruitfull Vine the Poplar tall doth clip,
Who bowes his head, sweet Nectar for to sip.
The lowing Heards, far off I doe behold,
Feeding on Meadowes all off burnish! Gold.
My head with mellow Apples I adorne,
And Peares more ruddy then the blushing morne.
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To empt the store of his Artillery,
Into a Grove of Bay I doe retire,
And reverence (not fear) his noise and fire.
O happy country life, thrice blest they are,
Who are contented with their houshold Lare.
And wrapt in Goats skins, as securely rest,
As those that doe on Tyrian Tanstry feast,
And sleep on quilted Down Beds, all the Pride
Of Norimberge, or Turky sought to hide,
Their glorious nakednesse; oh happy Fate,
That still attends the humble Shepherds state.
Crownes are compos'd of cares, and Honours be,
But the ins{n}aring Gins of Destinie;
The purblind Goddesse takes delight to wrong,
None save the rich, the haughty, and the strong:
Here without shew of feare, securely I
Doe rob the earth of her Embroyderie.
The Primrose, Lilly, Calaminth are here,
The Violet, Paunsy, Pagle, and Kings-Speare,
Smooth Ladies Smocks, with Hare hels, and the Flower,
That cheifly springeth in Adonis Bower;
The Myrtle, Spiknard, Gowlands, and the Rose,
Sops dipt in Wine, Oxe eye, the lips of Cowes;
This is the life thats free from cares, and feare,
Oh that my sweet Amandus were but here.
| The Loves of Amandus and Sophronia | |